Why this Jewish mom finally got a Christmas tree

• Being in the minority and making do with less even echoes the Hanukkah story, which is about resisting assimilation and stretching a tiny bit of oil into eight nights of light.

Yes, but: My half-Jewish husband sees a Noble Fir as the essential centerpiece of December gatherings.

• So we're figuring out a holiday style that works for both of us.

Don't get me wrong: I love Christmas trees.

• I've visited them, crafted ornaments for them and filled my home with their candle scent.
• But I was raised to believe that a "Hanukkah bush" was sacrilegious.

The latest: This year, we got our third tree.

• But we follow rules that feel more us than commercialized Christmas: No reindeer or tartan allowed on the tree, but homemade baubles, felt art inspired by our dog and lumpy bows are welcome. (I'm not into Hanukkah ornaments.)
• And while we skip capital-C Christmas sweaters for our toddler, polar bears and snowmen prints are fair game — as is a menorah shirt that says "It's lit."

We also have a gold menorah with leaf motifs — so there's a tree theme throughout.

• I lead Hebrew songs each of Hanukkah's eight nights, light candles and eventually will teach my son the hide-the-presents tradition from my childhood.

Zoom out: My Hebrew chanting and toy-xylophone rendition of the dreidel song can't hold a candle (excuse the pun) to jingly Michael Bublé ballads or strings of lights that make my 16-month-old say "wow."

• And that's fine: Hanukkah isn't Jewish Christmas. When the time comes to celebrate Passover, we make a bigger deal out of that than Easter.

What's next: We still need to sort out our Santa story.

• My husband wants our son to wake up to cookies mysteriously eaten.
• But in my childhood, where truth was hugely valued, I proudly knew the secret about Santa early on. I wonder if there's a way to maintain Christmas' magic for my Jewish son without telling him a white lie about the big bearded guy.